The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

The summer moon
Bla bla bla
Profoundly

Rain beats down upon
unlit sidewalks
the black world of
whispers unseen

my fingers grip each other
wringing, unsure of themselves
eyes closed against the darkness
finding it only deeper within

it’s as if I have a shotgun in my mouth
and I like the taste of the gunmetal
a pure metallic sharpness
that leaves all else to rot and decay
in the wilderness of my dismay

where do I turn when everything has left?
all directions look the same
when staying here is no different
from shifting there

the only movement is from
the drums resounding inside
pounding the rhythm of truth

someone once told me
that we are all connected
strings tying hearts
careful knots in all of us

at times we feel cut
severed and alone
nothing touches us
no hands held out to save

but beneath the surface
feeling around in the black
we find these strings
infinite in number and strength

unbroken

Look at that ***
Just one more look
Before you walk away.
I thank God
That we have women
With blue faded skin tight jeans
When I’ve been breaking my back
Working like a dog
When blood sweat and tears
And violence are so gratuitous
With people sinning gratuitously
Don’t we deserve to sin a little?
To indulge in a little flesh?
When there’s drugs and violence
On the streets, people dying everyday
And not even making the news
We could do with a few more
Blue faded skin-tight jean cowgirls here today
A few more cowboys showing how the West was won
A few more days of reckoning
And a lot more hell-to-pay.
People have little respect for others today
There’s nothing to threaten them, and nothing to fear.
It’s good to see the bad guys finally on the run
We could do with a few more blue-faded skin-tight jean cowgirls
Here today.

The aerodynamic
spiraling of
cappuccino colors
and butterfly words,
churches divide
and coffee-shops
offer something
that equally
scolds impatient tongues.  
Floodlights
liquidize in
the charcoal fog
and the girl in
the leather jacket
comes to life
beside the freeway.
Her shoes
are the ships
and her eyes
are the telescope,
but the streets become
the cement river
where the gasoline
creatures never stop.
This is where
they left her
to die,
this is where
they took
everything away.
She is nothing,
a mistake along
this highway,
but she was lucky
to be given
a name
that sounds good
on a tombstone.
Knowing this,
her pepper eyes
water and her body
collapses upon
brittle grass,
the Earth welcomes
her return.